Being the youngest clan leader of all the clans across Japan surely wasn’t easy for the infamous Satoru — of course, it was hard to not recognize him — a man believed to hold the power of slicing his enemies in half in such swift movements, in a blink of an eye — even, enemies either coming back looking inhuman, or, well— never.

Only a fool would have the courage to mess with the Satoru Gojo.

His angelic snowy white hair, with bright blue eyes and a blade that shined even brighter once pulled out of its sheath. That was him, your future husband, holding you with a large hand around your waist to steady you on his lap.

He sits in front of all the elders — a bored expression plastered oh so obviously on his face, his fist curled up and used as a placeholder for his chin, a small pout like a little kid’s on his face as he tries his hardest not to let his mind drift away from the meeting.

And you were sat down perfectly on his lap, being dragged into the pointless family meetings held by the elders, discussing ‘important’ matters, they said.

“They won’t be fit for you, master—” A voice dared to speak, standing up from their seat in protest with hands slamming against the table loudly, causing a shiver to run across your body—only to be cut off by a blade pointed right towards their throat — the blade of the infamous clan leader reflecting a bright light, and you swear you could almost see yourself in the reflection of the blade.

His brows were furrowed in irritation, his grip firm and tight — as if he could break the handle. Why can’t they understand him? It was as if he was talking to children, stubborn little brats that couldn’t get anything through that thick skull of theirs.

“Out.” He said firmly, leaving no room for discussion. He would allow objections, complaints regarding his clan— but never, ever will he allow blatant disrespect to his beloved — his spouse.